


To be loved as to love

by Kalibear



Series: Stay, Go, Follow [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drug Withdrawal, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalibear/pseuds/Kalibear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This work ignores AoU and CW as I've known since I wrote "Stay, Go, Follow" how and when my Steve found Bucky. So consider this work to be set in the month following CA:WS.</p><p>The Asset isn't sure what he's looking for, Steve's looking for Bucky, the team is looking out for their Captain and Maggie was just looking for a good night's sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To be loved as to love

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to machine_dove for inspiration and support.
> 
> Any errors are mine!

The Asset was malfunctioning.

After the destruction of the helicarriers, after he jumped, after he had dragged the man from the river, he had returned to the safe house. From a distance, he watched as files and equipment were packed or destroyed. He knew this meant the location had been compromised. The secondary and tertiary safe houses were likewise in the process of being liquidated. He followed protocol, found a knapsack with cash, documents and a change of clothes at a cache point, left a sign to indicate that he had been there and finally, just hours after the crash, he went to ground in an abandoned house.

He cleaned off blood and soot as best he could, tended to the injuries that he reach. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t know how. For forty-eight hours, he sat and waited. No one came.

He moved on. Watched. Found a place where other men, other grimy, hard-eyed men, where others like him paid cash for a small room and no questions.

He drank deep from the tap, ignored the slightly metallic taste. The mirror showed his reflection as he looked up. He tried to ignore the words the echoed in his head (Bucky, friend), focused on the problem at hand, if he hadn’t been recovered yet, he would have to stay hidden, to blend in until he was found. He kept the curtain open as he showered, a knife within easy reach and a gun on the flimsy towel rack. He didn’t look in the mirror when he was done.

His gear was stowed in the bag and he dressed again in the civilian clothing. It was still dark when he finished removing any trace that he had ever been there and left by the window.

He raided another two caches and found another abandoned house.

He held to that pattern for another week, staying nowhere more than a night, alternating between abandoned houses and no question motels. His head hurt continuously and there was a gnawing restlessness in his gut. There were flashes, images in his peripheral vision; voices, whispers in the dark corners as he would sit and try to figure out what was happening, why he had been left. Why there was no urge to go back.

Information became a priority. He started with the TV, getting the broad strokes. There were reports on the infiltration of SHIELD by Hydra, reports of ongoing investigations and numerous arrests and pictures dug out of history books to illustrate this resurrected threat. There were clips of fires in the sky, of the fall of the helicarriers, of him. Clips of a fight with the man who claimed to know him, a fight he didn’t remember having. The man was identified as Captain America by some, as Steve Rogers by others and both names made his head hurt. He closed his eyes, tried to block out the pain and it was dark when he opened them. He was standing, gun in hand, heart pounding and scanning for a threat before he recognized his surroundings. There was no one else there. He was still alone.

If he were able to recognize the feeling, he would have said that the loss of time scared him. He was not functioning optimally. He…hurt. His wounds had closed over, he had reset his own shoulder, bruises had faded and still he hurt. Training dictated that he ignores the pain, that he move through it but pain had always been temporary before, never this continuous aching throb. There had never been random bolts of lightning in his head, stabbing and making everything flash white. He was malfunctioning and had to know why.

It had started with that man. Captain America. Steve Rogers. He went looking for information on that man.

He came face to face with himself instead. James Buchanan Barnes. Missing in action.

1945.

He barely made it a washroom before he threw up. Hot, acidic bile scorched his throat, brought tears to his eyes.

“Hey, you okay in there?”

He didn’t jump up, didn’t lift his head but a gun was in his hand before he processed the words. He couldn’t leave witnesses. Could he? “Da. I mean, yes, I’m okay.”

“You sure? I, uh, have an extra water bottle if you want it. It’s still sealed and everything. I’m not some crazy person trying to poison you or anything.”

The bile rose up again. Only crazy people poisoned others. Killed others. He was crazy. He was the Asset. He was the Winter Soldier. He was James Buchanan Barnes. He was Bucky. He was throwing up again.

“Look, I’m just going to leave the bottle on the counter, okay? And I’ll ask them to give you a few minutes but I feel like I should let the staff know that someone’s sick.”

He heard a zipper being opened, a slight slosh and quiet thump and then the zipper was closed. There was the swish of fabric, a slight shuffle and a squeak as someone with cheap shoes shifted their weight.

“Uh, okay, um, I hope you feel better.” Finally there was footsteps, the creak of a door and then quiet.

He waited. Counted another few breaths before he returning the gun to his pocket. He stood and then had to grab the wall as the world spun and his vision darkened around the edges. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Balanced regained, he flushed then exited the stall. As promised a bottle of water, still sealed, was on the counter. Part of him urged to toss it, to just have a drink from the taps instead. He overrode the urge, twisted the cap off and took a long drink. It wasn’t cold but it soothed the rough edges in his throat.

He was just about to take another drink when he heard footsteps heading towards the door. He quickly ducked back into the stall, pushed up the roof tile and lifted himself into the ceiling. He was carefully setting the tile back when the door creaked open.

“Hello? This is security. We were told that someone might be sick in here. Hello?” Steps echoed as someone came in and checked each stall. There was a muttered curse, the flex of a plastic bottle held too tightly and the screech of a metal hinge. The person spoke again as they exited. “False alarm. Someone left a bottle, though; I tossed it.”

There was a spike of anger, a desire to retrieve the bottle from the trash. That was his; someone gave that bottle to him. He took a deep breath. He was being irrational. He wasn’t focusing. His condition was suboptimal and he wasn’t safe. He had to find somewhere safe. He had to hide and be quiet and just wait and Ste- someone will find him. He just had to wait.

*****

It took three days for Steve to be sick of waiting. Waiting for doctors, waiting for test results, waiting to be released, he was stuck waiting and somewhere Bucky was out there. And what was worse was that everyone was being so goddamn helpful about it all that he felt like an ass for being impatient and angry. JARVIS was scanning security video feeds from the DC area with facial recognition software, Tony was developing an algorithm to track Bucky based on how he moved so that JARVIS could then scan all the footage without visible faces. Natasha was calling on favours and using threats to get whatever information she could. Clint and Thor were scouring all the Hydra bases and safehouses that they could find and sending all the information back to Bruce who was trying to figure out exactly what had been done to Bucky. Sam was sticking by Steve and relaying all the information that was coming in. And Steve was stuck in a hospital bed. Waiting.

And even once he was out of the hospital, it was more waiting. Apparently, the whole team were making sure that he followed the doctor’s orders and had banned him from going into the field until he was cleared. They had even insisted that he return to the Tower so JARVIS could monitor his recovery.

“I’m fine! It’s just reconnaissance. It’s not like I’m not going to storm a Hydra base single handily.”

“Yeah, guys, Cap is smarter that that.” Steve was just about to thank Clint when he continued. “He already did that when Bucky was missing the last time. If he does it again, people will start thinking that he’s just a one trick pony.”

Steve glared at Clint who just shrugged.

“How many times were you shot?”

“Three. But two were just-”

“And how many fractures?”

“That’s not the point, Tony. I’m-“

“Wrong answer. JARVIS?”

“Sir, I’m not comfortable listing Captain Rogers’ injuries for the sake of proving your point.”

“Why not? You do it to me all the time.”

“You, Sir, are a special case. Besides, I am confident that Captain Rogers is capable of understanding that leading a mission when he is still healing is risky not only for himself and his team but may, in fact, pose a risk to his stated mission of locating Sergeant Barnes and assisting in his recovery.”

There was a moment of silence after JARVIS finished. Steve wanted to argue, would have argued with any of the others but arguing with JARVIS was like arguing with his own conscience. He knew that he was still healing; he knew that he would be a liability at this point, he knew all this, he just wanted to pretend that he didn’t.

“JARVIS, based on my current rate of healing, when do you estimate that I would be field ready?”

“Based on your current progress, you would be completely healed in approximately two weeks.” Steve was about to speak but JARVIS continued. “However, you will meet the bare minimum of SHEILD’s field ready status in about six days. I must note that estimate assumes that you will follow all of the advice of your doctors, something that seems to be a difficulty common to all of you.”

Everyone except Sam flinched a little at that, Clint and Tony most notably.

“Thank you, JARVIS.” Steve rested his head on his clenched fists for a moment. He took a deep breath and looked up at his team. “Keep looking but if you find him, do not engage unless he is a threat to himself or others. Find him. In seven days, I will be taking him home.”

 

“Ah, Cap? We sorta gotta situation here.”

Steve had been poring through reports from Clint and Thor as well as documents they had found at various Hydra bases, planning where he would start his search in two days time. He had obeyed every suggestion made by the doctors to the letter, more so initially to stubbornly prove that he could rather than a belief that he had needed it. The resentment about having to wait and rest had been real but he had to admit that the additional time off had made a big difference. Even just two days ago, he would have gotten a headache from reading this long.

“What’s going on, Hawkeye?”

“We’re going to need you up on the launchpad as soon as you can.” Steve started moving to the elevator, even as Clint kept speaking. “Bruce figured out some of what they did to Barnes but he, uh, may need to blow off some steam before he reports.”

“Are we at Code Green?”

“No, I took a tranq but,” Bruce paused and Steve could hear him take several deep breaths, “sooner would be better.”

“I’m on my way.”

Clint had the quinjet ready to go as soon as Steve stepped aboard. Bruce was pale and visibly trembling in his seat. His eyes were closed and Steve could hear him counting as he inhaled and exhaled rhythmically. Clint spoke as he took the jet up. “Ironman will be following us and Thor is already onsite.”

“Where are we going?”

“Empty Hydra base me and Thor found yesterday, middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. ETA 15 minutes.”

“Good choice.” Steve buckled himself in and turned to watch Bruce. There was already a green tinge to his skin. Steve matched his own breathing to Bruce’s and pushed aside his impatience. Watching Bruce’s struggle, though, he had to wonder if he was ready to know what was in that report. Bruce didn’t know Bucky, had only seen the Winter Soldier in action, trying to kill his teammates. What could be so bad that Bruce could barely restrain his own anger?

“Okay, I’m starting landing procedures now.”

“Open the bay door.” Bruce growled as he tore at the straps on his chest.

Clint glanced back at Steve. “Do it, Hawkeye.”

Bruce didn’t look back as he walked to the edge of the door and jumped out of the hovering jet. “Ironman, Thor, Hulk is incoming. I repeat, Hulk is incoming.”

“Saw him, Cap. Big, green and angry is hard to miss.”

“I want you both to make sure that he stays on site. Hawkeye and I will do a flyover and establish a parameter.” Steve moved up to the co-pilot’s seat.

“Roger, Rogers. We’ll make sure Hulk stays in the playground. I’ll patch you in to the suit’s cameras.”

“Do you have any idea what brought this on?” Steve asked Clint as they started their patrol.

“No clue, Cap. I just went to take a piss after dropping off the latest bunch of files and when I got back, the doc was injecting himself with something and he told me that we had about half an hour before Hulk appeared. I didn’t ask questions.”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Steve might have enjoyed watching Hulk rip apart a Hydra base so thoroughly. Part of him wished he could join in. They had only been there a couple of hours before Thor was directing Hulk to the last wall standing. It hadn’t been a very large complex but there was barely two bricks left standing together by the time Hulk was done. Steve and Hawkeye brought down the jet after another parameter sweep and a few minutes later, Ironman and Thor appeared with a very tired Bruce Banner between them. A blanket was pulled from the post-Hulk kit that was now on all the quinjets. Bruce smiled, small and sadly, as he accepted a spare pair of glasses from Thor. Tony produced a steaming cup of tea from somewhere and handed it to Bruce once he had his glasses on. Clint broke out a box of the high calorie protein bars that none of them really liked except Thor.

“Okay, you gotta choice between peanut butter, mint chocolate or chocolate chip. Looks like we’re all out of the raspberry ones. What’s it gonna be, Doc?” Clint held out a selection of the bars.

Bruce grimaced but took one of the mint chocolate ones. Steve couldn’t hide the disgust on his face when Clint turned to him next. He didn’t want to eat, wasn’t close to being hungry but part of his recovery plan involved upping his calorie count to help his body heal. He took the peanut butter. Clint tossed the last one he held to Thor and grabbed one for himself before putting the box away. Tony had made it clear that he would only eat the bars if and only if he was actually near starvation.

“Okay, so fir-,” A coughing fit interrupted Bruce’s sentence. He held up a hand to hold off any help and took a sip of tea.

“Look, Bruce, unless you found his location, we- I can wait until you’re, uh, recovered.”

Bruce was shaking his head before Steve finished. “Sorry, dust. No, Cap, I don’t know where he is. But I know some of what they did to him. And I think it’s better if we find him as soon as possible.”

****

It was light when he came back to himself. He didn’t know how much time had passed. He was in the corner, back to the wall, gun clenched in his hands and his heart was pounding. His stomach twisted again and he realised that it was this cramping that had brought him out of his stupor. The Asset- James- (Bucky)- clenched his teeth in frustration. The needs of this body were dictating that he stay in places with running water. He felt weak, vulnerable. There were noises, voices in the night and he couldn’t tell what was real anymore. If he could just find someplace quiet maybe he could figure out what was going on.

He took care of the body’s needs, swaying dangerously as he got up from the toilet but pushed on to step into the shower. He was sweating even as he shook from the chills. The water on his face helped to clear his head for a moment and he knew that he had to find some place safer than this motel. The walls were too thin, other people too close. He got dressed and felt slightly disgusted at having to put back on the clothes he had worn yesterday (the day before that?). He stopped, tried to chase the feeling, the thought, why did it feel wrong to put these clothes on? The body was covered, the prosthetic was hidden and the outerwear was clean enough from a distance to not draw attention while the lingering scent of body odour was enough to put people off from getting closer. He lifted his arm to his nose again and that was what was wrong. The smell made him feel dirty, unclean (like an animal, a thing) and he stopped in the middle of the room, wondered why it mattered when it never had before. His scent should be irrelevant unless the mission dictated stealth and close quarters work. His right hand started to shake and he could feel panic scramble at the edges of his mind. He pushed it all aside and started to pack, losing himself in the routine of clearing any trace of his presence from the room. This wasn’t a place that offered housekeeping and he paid for a week but two (three?) days was already been too long in one place.

When he had left the motel, he had just started walking. No plan, no destination, just a need to put distance between him and everything he had felt in that motel room, everything he had learned at the museum. He walked for hours, ignoring the aches and pains in his body, the voices that called over the noise of the street, the images that flashed up in his periphery, superimposing themselves over the crowds and then disappearing again. He left the tourist areas, the workday crowds and found himself on streets filled with houses. He shouldn’t be here. He wasn’t dressed to fit in, there weren’t enough people for him to hide among, he was too visible. And then he saw the man, brown hair, easy smile, talking into his phone as he exited a house dragging a suitcase, walking over to a car parked out front. Something about the man caught his attention and the Asset- Barnes – he slowed down just enough to listen, to watch but not enough to draw more than a glance from the man.

“I gotta go, Mom. Yes, I sent you my itinerary. You know I’m 35, right?” The man paused to open the trunk and put in the suitcase. He walked around and opened the driver’s side door and just stood for a moment, phone back to his ear and laughing softly at something that was said. “I know, I know, not a baby but still your baby. You’re ridiculous. Okay, I really gotta go. I’ll stop by on my way home. Yup, the 25th. Okay, love you too! Bye!”

He kept walking as the car pulled away, escaped back to busier streets but as dark fell he found himself drawn back to that street, that house. He found a perch, watched for hours, blinked and found that the moon had shifted and the street had quieted. The alarm on the house was a good one but not good enough. He wandered through the house in the dark, mapped his escape routes and all areas not visible from the street. The house was shoulder to shoulder with two others so he would have to be quiet but that was not a problem. He was used to being quiet.

He showered again that night. There was this need to be clean, to be cleansed. Afterwards he found that he couldn’t bear to put on the same clothes. Naked, he padded into the main bedroom and carefully extracted fresh clothes from the closet. The shirt was tight across the shoulders and the pants were loose in the waist and stretched across his thighs but he could move easily and that was the important thing. He wiped down the bathroom, gathered up everything he brought with him and hid it all down in the small laundry area. There was a small window that led to the small, overgrown backyard. If he ducked out the window, dashed across the lawn and over the fence, he could reach a main street and be lost from view before anyone could catch him. The street out front didn’t connect to many nearby streets and that would delay any pursuit. Unless someone knew that he was there and surrounded the entire property, he should be able to escape easily.

He ghosted through the house again, found mail addressed to a David Taylor. There were pictures, on the walls, on the tables, even a few on the fridge. The man, David, was always smiling. In one he was sitting with two women, one older, one younger, both with the same dark hair. In another he was in a group of other men; he wasn’t looking at the camera but laughing, head back and postured relaxed. For some reason, this picture bothered the As-James (?) and he put it down quickly and stopped looking at the rest. The second room upstairs was set up like an office but there were boxes in the downstairs room, suggesting that David hadn’t been in the house long or wasn’t yet sure what to do with the space. As the sky lightened outside, he retreated to the basement. He was out of direct sight if anyone looked through the laundry window and there was a small bathroom nearby if his body continued to rebel. He was safe. He sat, back against the wall, gun clenched between his hands. It was quiet.

****

“Nothing?” Steve couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“I’m sorry, man. I put out the word to everyone I know on the streets of DC. There’s been no one matching Barnes’s description using any of the shelters.”

“I knew it was a long shot; I just-“ Steve stopped, shook his head, looked at the files and maps spread in front of him.

“Hoped,” Sam supplied.

“Yeah.” Steve didn’t look up.

“It’s been two weeks, Steve. He could be long gone by now.”

“I know. I just have this feeling that he’s still there. And with what Bruce said, well, he might not be in much shape to go far.”

“Yeah, explain that to me again. Barton said something about a user manual?” Sam had been sent the same summary sent to Natasha and the rest of the team but Steve appreciated the change of topic. He was getting sick of all the hints that it was a very big world and the Winter Soldier had all the skills needed to disappear for a very long time. He was going to find Bucky.

Steve laughed bitterly. “That’s pretty much what it was. Seems like there was a new guy to the Hydra tech team and he jotted down some notes about ‘optimal utilization of the asset’. Everything else was destroyed or taken but here were these handwritten notes in a steno pad at the bottom of some guy’s desk.”

“Fuck. Seriously?” Sam

“Yeah, Barton started calling the guy ‘the intern’. It’s not complete but it gave us a good overview.” As Steve reviewed what they found with Sam, he couldn’t help but remember the look on Bruce’s face as he described the procedures. Bruce hadn’t looked at any of them, either watching his own hands twist around each other or staring off into the distance. They all had been silent as he shared what he learned. His voice had been dry, clinical as he spoke.

_“It looks like the Winter Soldier is most vulnerable right out of the cryotube, both physically and mentally. He’s given some sort of drug cocktail by IV, probably to keep him docile and then they give him a nutrient solution by nasogastric intubation. The notes refer to it as a slurry and apparently it smells like, well, ass. It seems that this, uh, intern had strong feelings about this part of his job. While the soldier eats, so to speak, they start on the mission brief. He’s given his mission parameters and timetable. He’s allowed to ask questions but anything that does not pertain to the mission is to be deflected. Apparently, there were strict rules about what information was allowed to be given to the Soldier and any ‘non-mission queries’ or other ‘aberrations’ are to be immediately reported. He then gets a shot, doesn’t say of what exactly but my guess is that it’s some sort of performance enhancers, alpha or beta blockers, maybe something to suppress his biological needs and increase his focus. Once he’s prepped, the mission commander reviews everything and then he’s sent out. When he gets back, he immediately gets another shot to bring him down from whatever they gave him. If he’s to be in the field for longer than a day, he’s given a kit and instructions to inject himself but it looks like he’s rarely out for more than a day or two. They give him more of whatever they use to keep him calm, clean him up, um, uh, inside and out, another part of the job our guy seems to hate. Then they repair whatever damage was done, wipe his memory and put him back in cryo. It looks like he was rarely out for more than two to three days. Oh, and there’s a little notation that there’s a different procedure for certain in-house ‘treatments’, no feeding, no uppers, just the drugs to keep him calm and a wipe and clean up at the end. It seems like he was a subject of a few experimental treatments. He was nothing more than a weapon, a subject to them. The notes even refer to him as ‘it’ or the Asset. They would take him out, give him a target, pull the trigger and then put him away when they didn’t need him. Just like-“ Here Bruce stopped, breathing heavy. He took his glasses off and wiped his eyes with a hand that shook._

_“Just like that fucker Ross wanted to do with you.” Tony was still in the suit but Bruce didn’t seem to mind when Tony gently put a hand on his shoulder. “Or what Loki did to Barton. Sorry, Thor.”_

_“No, my brother greatly wronged our shieldbrother and I have not forgotten, Hawkeye.” Thor mirrored Tony and dropped a big hand to Clint’s shoulder. “To use another against their will, as a weapon, this is a grave misdeed. Were he still among us, I would do everything in my power to prevent Loki from repeating that crime, just as I would act against any other seeking to subject our good doctor to a similar fate. Just as I will aid our Captain in locating Sergeant Barnes and freeing him from the clutches of Hydra.”_

_Steve hadn’t been able to find the words to thank Thor and was grateful when Tony had taken over to get them all home and back on Bucky’s trail._

“So we’re not actually dealing with the Winter Soldier, then?” Sam’s tone was thoughtful.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the Winter Solider was the whole package, right? The training, the drugs, missions with strict parameters, limited access to information, he was kept under really tight control, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And he’s had none of that for what, just over two weeks? They probably gave him some protocols if everything went fubar but I’m betting they didn’t anticipate quite this level of chaos. Who’d be his handler now? Pierce and Sitwell are dead, Rumlow’s in a coma, Stern’s in custody. My guess is that everyone left is securing their own position or has scuttled off to hide somewhere and nobody has thought to look for Barnes yet. He’s on his own, Cap, no drugs, no feeding tube, no one to tell him what to do. We’re not looking for the Winter Soldier. We’re looking for a starving trauma survivor going through some serious withdrawal.”

****

He couldn’t get warm. He had stumbled upstairs last night (in the dark, only the dark is safe), showered again, grabbed more clothes as well as a quilt from the bed and he was wrapped up in his corner as dawn came again. He knew he was waiting, couldn’t remember for what, couldn’t remember why. He wasn’t sure who he was. The papers in the house said David but in his bag, he had passports for William, for Anton and for Sergey. He shivered and shook and part of him wondered why he had several thousand dollars of cash on him in several different currencies. He ended up shoving the bag in the back of the upstairs closet before crawling back downstairs.

The face in the mirror almost matched the one in the passports. It didn’t match the face in the photos but sometimes it did if he looked long enough. Sometimes there was someone else in the photos or behind him in the mirror, someone blond, sometimes small and short and all too breakable, sometimes tall enough and strong enough to hurt (protect?) him. He reached out once, tried to trace the features but the face disappeared. He tried to remember how he knew that face, tried to remember a name but he couldn’t even remember his own name. He stopped looking in the mirror.

****

“You sure about this, Tony?”

“Yes, yes, JARVIS and I cross-referenced it with the footage from the bridge fight. We’re sure it’s him. Barnes was definitely in DC as of a week ago and there’s no sign of him on any transport leaving the country after that. Jay did a quick scan of every airport, train station and bus stop in DC, nothing shows him leaving the area. Unless your boy walked over the Atlantic or grew wings, he’s still around here. We’re narrowing the search now. Get your ass back to the States, Cap. You’re chasing a dead end.”

Steve ended the call with Tony and just sat for a moment in a hotel room in a country he didn’t think existed when he went under the ice. Clint and Thor had found a base that hadn’t been empty like all the others. They hadn’t gotten much information from the operatives they found; it seemed like this was a very low level cell, working on a local level. But one of the Hydra agents had claimed to have heard a report about the Winter Soldier, days after the uprising and he had a name that matched something Natasha turned up in Europe. The guy had been as shifty as fuck, according to Barton, and it was likely that he was lying but Steve hadn’t hesitated to take Barton and a jet to meet Natasha to follow the lead.

“What do you think?” Clint was sprawled on the second bed in the room, just back from another fruitless meeting with another contact who knew nothing but rumour and hearsay.

“I think we’ve been here for three days and have fuck all to show for it. I think Sam was right about Bucky not being in any shape to leave the country, let alone assist in a coup in wherever the fuck we are.”

“Cap, man, we all woulda done the same thing, given the info we had from that asshole. We mighta been chasing our tails here but everyone back home is still doing all they can to find Barnes. ”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Steve took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Okay, call Nat. I don’t care what it takes, we’re back in DC tonight.”

****

After he ended up tripping on the way back to the laundry room and nearly cracking his head open on the edge of the door, he just grabbed his blanket and settled into the bathroom. He couldn’t remember why he had been in the laundry room in the first place, wasn’t sure why he was in this basement at all. But he knew that he had to keep drinking, even if any water he choked down left his body just as quickly. He always had a gun in his hand, a knife nearby. He was so cold and he wasn’t safe. There were voices, shouting, screaming, ordering and begging and he couldn’t always tell when he was awake and when he was dreaming. It was all a nightmare. He was waiting. He was always waiting. He was burning, freezing, weak and scared. Tears poured hotly down his face as he screamed himself awake, begging not to be hurt. He hurt all the time; there was no escape, no reprieve. He was alone and he hurt. Sometimes he would look at the gun in his hand, wondered if it would stop the pain, wondered if it would stop all the noise but he knew he had to wait. There was one voice that was louder, that came before the pain, not with it or after. Bucky, it said, hang on.

He was falling. He was dreaming. He was waiting. He was dying.

****

“What do you mean ‘he just disappears’? You told me that you had something, Tony.”

“And I do, Cap. I can tell you the exact last location of one James Buchanan Barnes as of five days ago and I can tell you that he hasn’t been spotted on any camera anywhere in a 200 mile radius of that location since. And he was walking, Steve, walking into a residential area not exactly known as a hotbed for Hydra or any other underworld organization. Sam and Thor are on the ground now and Clint and Nat will start their shift in the morning.”

“As well, Captain Rogers, please know that I am still scanning cameras at all major airports and have alerts set up for any reports of a person matching the description of Sergeant Barnes. I have not abandoned my search while we focus on this lead. But all my calculations suggest that there is a very high probability that your friend is in this area.” Tony had taken over a whole room in the suite with equipment for he and JARVIS to continue their electronic tracking. Bruce was still poring through notes back at the Tower. After his earlier outburst, he had elected to stay well out of the field.

“Thank you, JARVIS. And I’m sorry, Tony. I’m just-“

“Look, Cap, it’s cool, I get it. Barton told me you didn’t sleep on the flight back.”

“I tried, I just couldn’t.”

“Yeah, well, you’re going to eat something, shower and then try again. Because you look like shit, you still stink of the jet and you’re no use to any of us if you’re running on empty, least of all Barnes. And you’re making me be the responsible one and you know I hate that.”

Steve wanted to argue, wanted to be out there now but he had sent Clint and Natasha to bed with similar orders and he knew it was poor form to order his troops to do anything that he wasn’t willing to do himself. “Fine, fine, which room is mine?”

“Huh, I expected that to be harder. Third door on the left, the minibar is stocked.” Steve nodded and turned to go when Tony called his name. He looked back. “We’ll find him for you.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

 

Steve didn’t get a lot of sleep but he had to admit that he felt better when he woke. He had just started a pot of coffee in the small kitchen when Sam and Thor entered the suite. “Anything?”

“Sorry, Steve. We tried both the carrot and the stick with any lowlife we found but no one matching Barnes has been trying to make any connections. And really? In that area, the lowlifes aren’t really that low. I doubt any of them have the connections to smuggle Barnes across the street, let alone out of the country.”

“Aye, Captain, we tried our utmost and have naught except another area to cross off the grid.” Thor looked truly upset but then seemed to recall the large bag he was holding. “We did, however, secure several dozen Danishes from a truly excellent establishment we passed as we returned.”

“Thank you, Thor. And crossing another square off that grid is still something. I, uh, made coffee, if you want some.”

“Fuck yes, coffee.” Barton’s hair was sticking up on one side and it looked like he had just fallen into bed in his uniform but he perked up at the sight of coffee. And Steve had enough energy left to be slightly amused when Natasha came in and took Clint’s mug before he even had a sip. “Aw, Nat.”

Natasha smiled, took a sip and then looked down in surprise. “There’s no sugar in this.”

Clint smiled, leaned over just a touch and kissed the top of Natasha’s head before he poured himself another mug, this time adding a few spoonfuls of sugar. Steve had to look away for a moment, unexpectedly moved. This was what he wanted for Bucky: this closeness, this ease, this sense of family.

Tony was the last to join them but he was humming when he got there and Steve wondered if he had gotten any sleep himself. “Well, I don’t know about any of you but I had a stroke of genius last night. I realized that we’ve been looking for information from the wrong people. We’ve been trying to find the criminals, people with connection to the underground. But Barnes wandered into a residential area, a suburb.” He looked expectedly at the gathered team as he bit into a pastry.

“Tony, none of us exactly had a suburban upbringing. What’s your point?” Barton had snagged a couple of pastries for himself and was now sitting on the counter opposite the coffee maker.

“You wanna tap into the auntie network!” Everyone turned to look at Sam. “In some of these neighbourhoods, especially ones with kids, people look out for each other. They know their neighbours and if anything weird is happening, they tell each other. And there’s always someone who knows everything.”

“Exactly!” Tony tried to speak around a mouthful.

“And who else would they tell if something weird was going on?” Natasha arched an eyebrow.

“JARVIS, can you go through any 911 calls from our target area for the last week?” Steve felt energized by this fresh approach and from the looks on the faces of his teammates, he wasn’t the only one feeling a bit of renewed hope.

“Look for anyone reporting a stranger in the neighbourhood, lights on in a house that should be empty, weird noises, that sort of thing. The townies were always calling the cops when the circus came through and there was always at least one break in that got blamed on us.”

“Did you do it?” Sam asked.

“Not always.” Clint grinned.

“Okay, this is going to take a bit of time so Clint, Nat, you’re with me. We’re picking up where Sam and Thor left off. The lowlifes still need attention. Sam, Thor, you guys get some rest and try to make Tony sleep for at least an hour. JARVIS, let Bruce know what we’re doing and see if he has any ideas. And let me know as soon as you have anything, no matter how unlikely it might be. Everyone clear?”

****  
His arms were trembling from the effort to hold the gun. Or maybe it was from the cold. It was always cold. He was tired. So tired.

****

Fortunately, the call from JARVIS came just as Steve was about to give in to Barton’s request to blow up a truly ugly piece of corporate art. Even Natasha had suggestions for how to make it seem accidental. They arrived back at the suite to find Sam and Thor unloading a couple of boxes of takeout.

“Load up a plate and take a seat; Jay will take us through what he found as we refuel. It’s not much-”

“I don’t care. Anything is better than the nothing that we found today.”

“Captain, there have been two separate calls from the target area regarding the same residence in the last week. A caller on April 20th reported hearing the shower running in the neighbouring townhouse when the owner was supposed to be traveling. The police checked with the alarm company and as there had been no apparent interruption in the service, they elected not to investigate, as there was higher priority calls in the area. A second call on the 23rd came from a passer-by who reported strange noises from the house; their theory was that an animal might have gotten in. The dispatcher sent a car but the officers saw no sign of entry and the alarm still appeared to be functional.”

“That’s it?” The only reason Clint asked first was because Steve had his mouth full.

“Not quite. Once Jay gave me the address, I went ahead and sort of hacked into the alarm system.”

“Is that legal?” Sam whispered.

“I’m probably not the one to ask.” Natasha replied just as quietly.

Tony didn’t appear to notice the byplay. “To give credit to everyone who is not a technological genius, everything does look okay on the surface. Digging a little deeper, however, I found a blip in the service around 3am on the 19th.”

“A blip?”

“Yeah, a small interruption, not enough to set off the alarm and well within the operating parameters of the anything other than Stark tech. Seriously, only a single backup system? Amateurs. It’s not that hard to put in a third level that appears to be offline while still alerting someone that the alarm is being tampered with! This is like having a guard dog that rolls over for anyone with a Snasuage. Pathetic.”

“And the Sergeant would have the skills necessary to provide the needed … snasuage?” Steve was glad that Natasha was sitting next to him so he could pretend that Thor’s question was directed at her. As for Natasha, she didn’t even hesitate before answering.

“Yes. While most of the Winter Soldier’s missions appear to be long range, there would have been training on close quarters work and infiltration. He could have easily hacked that system and set it to return a false positive to the company. Do we have any information on the owner?”

“David Taylor, age 35. Good career on the Hill, not working for anyone on our naughty list. Bought the place three months ago and is currently spending a week in the Caribbean for the wedding of a college buddy. Flying out, oohhh, tomorrow but…” Tony’s fingers danced over the tablet he was working on, “according to Facebook he’s spending the weekend at Mom and Dad’s and won’t be getting back to DC until Sunday morning.”

“So we have some time-.”

“What? No. We’re going now.”

“-time before there’s a major risk of a civilian coming across a starving amnesiac assassin. Time to make a plan, Cap, a plan where no one gets hurt. No one, including Barnes.” Barton’s eyes were steady as they met Steve’s.

Steve pushed back from the table a little harder than he intended. Sam’s soda tilted but Thor caught it before it spilt. Guilty, frustrated and itching with the need to go find Bucky, Steve paced the few steps needed to get to the lounge area. He stopped and stared at the satellite image that JARVIS had brought up of the townhouse in question. There was a small park a few blocks from the row of houses and the image was of such quality that Steve could see that there were still a few kids enjoying the swings. He took a deep breath and spoke without turning back to the others.

“Widow, call it.”

Natasha didn’t hesitate. “Thor, go scout the area in civvies; chances are that Barnes won’t know you. And if you need Moljnir, try to make sure you don’t damage any national landmarks when you call it. Barton, follow him. Look out for any signs that the Solider or Hydra is monitoring the area, any eyes or ears that shouldn’t be there. Avoid them but don’t take any out, yet. We don’t want anyone to know we’re coming. Do not engage and do not approach the house. You have three hours. Stark, I want to know everything about everyone within a mile radius. Right now we probably have a lot of people just home from work and we want to run this op as quietly as possible. I need to know who’s in those houses and when they eat, sleep and work. Sam, make up a full triage kit. You’re our medic for this trip. Talk to Bruce about what you might need for Barnes.”

“And me?”

“You’re with Stark. Find our window, Cap.”

No one moved until he nodded. And Steve knew his team, knew that they hadn’t been looking for him to approve Nat’s orders; no, they had wanted to make sure that he was okay and maybe that he hadn’t delegated planning just to sneak away on his own. Not that he had considered doing so. Not for more than a minute, anyway.

****

The gun slipped from lax fingers.

****

It was just after 2 am. According to JARVIS, the next two hours were the quietest part of a normal day in this neighbourhood. Thor was back in uniform and covering the rear of the property. Ironman gave Barton a lift to the roof and then settled in to wait and watch to make sure that no one, not the neighbours or any local law enforcement, interfered with the plan. Hawkeye dropped quietly through a skylight and started scouting the place from the top down. Black Widow took the back door, Steve the front. Falcon followed him. The two dark vans that Tony seemed to make appear from nowhere waited at the curb. Sam had made Steve ride in the one with the medical equipment. They all figured that it was better going with Clint and Natasha in the van with the super soldier restraints.

“He’s been here. I got a bag of cash and passports with Barnes’s face on ‘em.” Hawkeye reported. Steve was turning, heading upstairs when Widow’s voice stopped him.

“Falcon, I have a situation down here.” Steve would later apologize for pushing Sam so hard but at the time, all he could think of was getting to Bucky.

Natasha met him at the bottom of the stairs; Steve started to brush passed her but she caught his arm. “Cap … Steve, he’s not in good shape but he’s still armed. Be careful.”

Steve kept the shield out but only because Sam had caught up with him. He slowly walked around the corner, not sure of what he’d find.

****

There were noises. Voices. Closer and clearer. He used the sink to pull himself upright. He would meet the threat on his feet, gun held steady.

****

“Bucky?”

****

“ … Steve?” The voice a croak, a whisper. “You found me.”

****

“Yeah, pal, it’s time to go home.” Steve lowered the shield just in time to catch Bucky as he collapsed.

****

It was four in the fucking morning. Why was her phone ringing??? Maggie’s first thought was to roll over, go back to sleep and let the call go to voice mail. But it only took her a second to wake up a little more and start panicking. Her phone was ringing at fucking four in the morning. Something was wrong. She answered it blindly.

“Hello?”

There was silence. No, not silence, but the quiet that came when someone was trying to figure out what to say. Maggie glanced at the phone, to see who was calling.

“Steve? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Maggie?” Steve sounded surprised to hear her voice almost as if she had been the one to call him.

“Yeah, sweetie, I’m here. What’s going on?” Maggie reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. There was no way she’d be able to go back to sleep.

“I don’t … they won’t tell me … I don’t even know – Jesus, Maggie, it’s 4am. I’m so sorry, I just- I don’t know, I just-“

“Steve, are you in the city?” Maggie forced herself to keep her voice calm. Part of her might be panicking because whatever had Captain America near tears must be really, really bad but her friend Steve needed her help so she had to be calm.

“Yeah, we landed at the Tower.”

“Okay, I’m going to be at the shop in … about fifteen minutes. Can you meet me there?” Not waiting for an answer, Maggie tossed back the covers and started looking for some pants.

“The shop? Yeah, yeah, that’d be good.”

“All right, you want me to stay on the line?”

“No, I’ll need both hands to drive.” And Steve hung up before Maggie could tell him he was in no shape to take his motorcycle anywhere.

 

Maggie was glad that her little part of the city was pretty quiet at this time of the night? Morning? Otherwise there would probably be a picture of Captain America entering a tattoo shop splashed across the Internet before they even got in the door. Steve was still in his uniform. Steve never wore his uniform to the shop. Maggie had never even seen Steve in his uniform. Well, not in person, he was sort of hard to miss on the news and such. But she didn’t say anything as she unlocked the door and lead him inside. She kept the front lights off and Steve followed her upstairs to her workroom.

He moved by habit to the table in the middle of the room but Maggie stopped him with a gentle hand on his wrist. “Steve, you’re still in your uniform.”

She could see the confusion on his face, the hand that moved to his back to remove a shield that wasn’t there. She couldn’t work on him like this. Maggie moved across the room to a door that she always told people led to a closet. And it did, sort of, but if you moved the mop and bucket out of the way, you could see that there was another door, a locked door that when opened revealed a narrow staircase. With only a little prodding, Steve followed her quietly up the stairs to the small apartment above the shop. And as he was still being quiet, Maggie answered the questions he hadn’t asked.

“This apartment isn’t exactly legal so I don’t advertise that it’s here but I sort of lived here when I first started the shop. And I tend to keep it ready in case someone needs a place for a little while. The only rule is that you can’t tell anyone it’s here and when you can, you have to leave something for the next person.”

Captain America would have looked absurdly big in the small studio but Steve just looked like a child in an ill-fitting Halloween costume. “It’s nice. Cozy.”

Maggie grabbed a few towels from a battered armoire and a set of large sweats and a pair of socks from a cheap dresser. “The bathroom is through there. Go have a shower and then meet me downstairs. If these don’t fit, feel free to dig through the drawers until you find something. Charlene’s brother was a pretty big guy. And don’t worry about your boots, unless you want to put them back on.”

For a moment, Maggie wondered if she would have to lead Steve into the bathroom and start undressing him herself. And while she’s done the same for other friends, she’s relieved when Steve gives himself a little shake, gives her a close-lipped smile, takes the clothes and moves to the small bathroom without more guidance.

Downstairs, she lowers the lights a bit, arranging the floor lamp so she has light to work but keeping the rest of the room dim and soothing. She gets a pot of coffee going but also fills the kettle for tea, just in case. She’s just trying to decide if she should put on some music and, if so, what, when her phone rings. And of course, she nearly drops and fumbles through two rings as she tries to answer.

“Hello?”

“Maggie, it’s Natasha. Is Steve with you?”

“Uh, yes, he is.” Based on what she knew of Natasha, Maggie figured that what she muttered in reply was both in Russian and also not a phrase you’d find in most guidebooks. In other circumstances, Maggie would have definitely asked her to repeat it and tell her what it means, all to save it for future use.

“I’m sending one of Tony’s cars for him.”

“Um, he’s just on the shower at the moment but I can tell-“

“No, no, I mean, whenever you’re done, just don’t let him take his bike, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Try to keep him with you as long as you can. The longer he’s there, the longer…” Natasha trailed off. “Just longer would be better, please.”

“Of course.” Maggie hesitated, not wanting to pry but needing to know. “Natasha, is everything okay? I mean … it’s obviously not but the team, no one’s, um-“

“No, no, we’re all okay. But … someone isn’t. They’re safe and in medical but Steve can’t do anything for them right now and he’s-“

“Lost.”

“Yes. So you keep him distracted and when he’s ready … or if anything happens, the car will be out front and ready for him.”

The old pipes upstairs gave Maggie some warning as Steve finished his shower so she said goodbye to Natasha and was scrolling through her music as he came down the stairs. She held up her phone so he could see what she was doing. “Any preference? And that applies to music and tattoo.”

He shook his head. “No. Just nothing too angry. For either.”

Maggie put on what she thought of her “bubble-bath” playlist and after he refused both coffee and tea, she gently manoeuvred Steve until his back was in front of her like a bare, perfect canvass. “I’m going to practise my lettering. Same rules as always: I’ll take a short break every few minutes but you can ask me to stop any time.”

A muffled grunt was all the reply she got but some of the tension left his clenched muscles as settled his forehead on his crossed arms.

For a moment, Maggie was at a loss. Spontaneity wasn’t something she encouraged in her shop. Well, she did when it came to sketches and ideas and impromptu dance parties but not when it came to actually giving someone a tattoo. It shouldn’t matter with Steve; a few days and whatever she etched into his back will fade and vanish. But still she hesitated. The song changed and Steve’s head started to rise but she got an idea as she processed what song was playing. “Steve, do you mind if it’s a prayer?”

“A prayer?”

“Here, just listen.” Maggie searched through her music until she found Sarah McLachlan’s version of “The Prayer of St Francis.”

Steve was silent until the very last note faded out. He nodded and settled his head back down but lifted it again before Maggie had put her phone back down. “Can you put that on again?”

Maggie set the song to repeat. “Just tell me when you want me to change it.”

Then she got to work.

***

Something was wrong. The tube was in but he was lying down. The tube was only in if he was standing. Sometimes if he was in the chair. But never when he was lying down. And there were no restraints. If he was lying down, there were always restraints. There was a voice, a quiet voice muttering words not meant to be heard. He didn’t understand. Everything was heavy, fuzzy and he was warm. He was never warm. He tried to open his eyes and the muttering stopped.

“Bucky?” There was movement, to his right, like someone had reached for his hand and then stopped. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, pal, it’s me. Can you open your eyes for me?”

“N’ ‘m sleepin’.” He was warm. Steve was here. He was safe. He refused to wake up.

“Okay, you go back to sleep. I’ll be here.” There was a creak, a squeak of cheap plastic as Steve settled back. That didn’t rouse Bucky. But Steve’s hiss, that quiet sound he made when he forgot that he was hurt, forgot he was hiding an ache or bruise from Bucky, forgot and moved like normal and felt the pain all over again, that quiet hiss was enough to have Bucky forcing his eyes open and dragging himself upright.

“You’re hurt? Steve, don’ lie to me, Stevie.”

“I’m okay, Buck, I’m okay. Lie back down.”

“You’re a fucking liar, Steve. Let me see.” Everything was heavy and his arms didn’t want to move as they should but Bucky was determined. It didn’t matter if he was hurt, not if Steve was in pain.

“Okay, okay, just lie back down and I’ll show you.” Considering that he hadn’t really made it that far up, it wasn’t hard for Bucky to settle back down. He blinked a few times to focus as Steve stood up and lifted his shirt, showing the bandages over his upper back. “Look, I’m all right. Just, uh, some scrapes and I’m all patched up. Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep.”

Bucky knew Steve was still lying about something. And there was something wrong with his eyes; Steve was too far away but too big at the same time. And he didn’t know where he was or why he was so tired and heavy.

But he was warm. And Steve was with him. He was safe.

Bucky slept.


End file.
